


Higher Than the Sun

by ardentaislinn



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentaislinn/pseuds/ardentaislinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Fitz wanted to do was get his groceries and go home. He didn't expect to encounter a woman crying in the frozen foods section that would change his night...and possibly his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Higher Than the Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruthedotcom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthedotcom/gifts).



> For Ruth, who has just had her wisdom teeth out and whose adventures in grocery shopping inspired this fic.
> 
> Just a warning to anyone sensitive to such things: Jemma is high on pain meds throughout most of this fic.

Leo Fitz expected many things. The sun would rise and set each day; he would inevitably say something awkward and embarrassing; and the world would eventually end from a human-induced catastrophe. 

One thing he _did not_ expect, however, was to find a woman sobbing into the open door of the ice cream section of the supermarket at 11 pm at night like she was determined to fill the freezer with her tears. 

Fitz stopped. He looked around for someone, anyone, who could help, before realising that there were no other customers in the store and - predictably - there were no staff members to be seen when he most needed one. He was going to have to take charge of the situation himself. 

Or maybe not. He hesitated for a moment, then continued to push his cart down the aisle, trying to be as silent as possible given the squeaky front right wheel of the trolley. He tried to make himself inconspicuous - not hard, given his stature - so that the girl wouldn’t take any notice of him. For once, he thanked the heavens for his complete lack of allure to the female sex. 

When he was halfway down the aisle, he stopped, his conscience having got the better of him. He backed up, wincing as the squeaky wheel increased in volume as it reversed directions. 

He drew level with the woman and she turned, looking up at him with luminous eyes, her cheeks stained red and splotchy from her tears. Her jaw looked strangely swollen, and Fitz wondered with a jolt if this was a more serious situation than he had initially thought. 

He cleared his throat. “Are you...okay?” he asked hesitantly, hoping against hope that she would tell him to bugger off. 

She thrust the ice cream carton she had been holding into his hand with almost violent force. “Look at it!” 

Fitz blinked, then looked down. It looked like a fairly normal design; some cartoon landscape with the name of the flavour resting on the pastoral grass. The only difference was a promotional sticker on the upper left corner featuring, inexplicably, a puppy. 

He looked up at the woman, confused. 

“Ummm…?” 

“Look at it!” she insisted. “It’s a puppy!” So, not something serious, after all. 

An endless sinking feeling started in his stomach. Oh god, he’d drawn the attention of a crazy woman. 

“That it is,” he replied with a careful nod. He tried to shuffle backwards as subtly as possible. 

“It’s just really cute,” she said with a hiccup. Without warning, she once again burst into gasping sobs, and headbutted his shoulder. It took Fitz a few seconds to realise that she was not imitating a charging bull, but was in fact seeking comfort. He raised his arms, heavy with reluctance, and settled his palms in the middle of her back. 

“There, there,” he said awkwardly, with a gentle pat. 

The girl only wailed harder and clutched at his sweater, pulling it so tight that the collar dug into the back of his neck. Fitz gulped. He wished his friend Trip were here. He’d calm the girl down with nothing more than a charming smile and a well-placed word. 

He extracted one hand from the girl’s back and inched it down carefully towards the phone in his pocket with the intention of calling someone - anyone - to help him. (Can you call 911 for a crying girl? It was definitely an emergency.) 

But then the girl took in a sharp breath and stopped crying. Fitz froze, uncertain, his hand still itching for his phone. 

“You smell good,” said the girl. 

Fitz shuffled a little, oddly pleased by the compliment. He should have known it would take a crazy person for someone to finally fancy him. Just his luck. 

She raised her head. “Why was I crying?” 

“Err...there was a puppy,” Fitz began. Her eyes filled with tears and his throat closed in panic. 

“Right,” she said, nodding. Her lips were pressed together in an obvious attempt to control the fresh tears forming in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out suddenly. “I had my wisdom teeth out a few hours ago.” Her eyes got a far-away look in them. “At least, I think it was today? Based on my feelings of lethargy and sense of unreality, I would estimate about four hours ago. What time is it?” she finished urgently, grabbing Fitz’s arm. 

“Just after 11?” 

“PM? Be specific!” 

“Yes, um, 11:13 pm.” 

The woman dropped his arm. “Five hours. Curses. These drugs are messing with my reasoning.” 

Fitz nodded vigorously, then cleared his throat and stopped mid-nod when her annoyed gaze snapped in his direction. Obviously, he wasn’t meant to have agreed with her. 

“You should probably be home resting,” Fitz ventured. 

“I know that,” she told him peevishly. “But I was too busy leading up to the operation to prepare and I need squishy foods to eat this weekend.” 

Fitz nodded as if he understood. 

“So many boring tests to do this week. Remind me why I became a biochemist?” The look she threw in Fitz’s direction was completely earnest. 

“Because you wanted to?” he tried. 

A far-away look settled on her face. “Oh, yeah,” she murmured dreamily. Fitz sighed in relief. 

She closed her eyes, and Fitz was wondering where her memories had taken her when she teetered dangerously. Fitz caught her in an awkward dip before she hit the ground. His heart pounded loudly at the near miss. The girl stared up at him, and he wondered if she could hear his thundering heartbeat. Their eyes locked for a long moment. Fitz’s brain short-circuited for a moment as he realised how pretty she was once she had stopped crying. He came back to reality with a crash as it occurred to him that half-holding a woman in the frozen foods section of the grocery store was the closest thing to romance he’d had in a very long time. 

Fitz once again looked around for help, but only the empty aisle stared back, completely unhelpful. 

“I just wanted to sit,” she said simply. 

“Ah, right.” 

“But I’m feeling a little woozy. I don’t think I can stand up.” 

Nothing for it, then. He tucked one arm under her legs and heaved. He strained. Something popped in his back and he collapsed forward, just managing to stop the woman’s head from smacking into the ground. 

Right, well, that wasn’t going to work. At least since no one was around, there wasn’t an audience for his demonstration of his lack of strength. 

She giggled a little, and Fitz felt heat creep up the back of his neck. Bloody disaster. 

He sighed and manoeuvred her into a sitting position, keeping his arm around her so she stayed upright. 

“Hey, do you think you can sit by yourself?” he asked. 

She snuggled in closer to his chest. 

“Okay, um, you need to get up.” 

She was silent for a moment. “No,” she said eventually. He could hear the pout in her voice. 

“Please? I can’t…” he dropped his voice to a whisper. “I can’t carry you.” 

“You smell good.” 

“You said that already.” 

She made a noise of annoyance, but she moved, trying to struggle to her feet. Fitz had to help haul her up to standing. 

“So, is there anyone I can call for you?” he asked. 

The woman shook her head. “No, but I’m going to be A-OK. If you can just get me to my car. I’m sure I’ll manage. I’m a doctor, you know,” she told him proudly. 

“I thought you were a biochemist?” 

She frowned a little. “I am. I am many things.” 

“Right.” Of that he had no doubt. “But you’re not driving anywhere.” 

She blinked. “But my car is here. I have the keys. See?” She dug into her pocket, and an endless moment later, jangled a set of keys in his face. 

“Sure, but there is no way you can drive. You may have noticed that you are a little loopy.” 

The woman stared at him for a long moment. “I do feel a bit vague,” she said eventually. “Does that mean you are taking me home with you?” 

She looked strangely excited by this idea. 

“I hadn’t planned on it.” 

“But you don’t know where I live. Do you?” 

“You could tell me?” 

The woman thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so.” 

Fitz baulked. “Why not?” 

“You are a stranger. I don’t want you to know where I live. I’d rather go home with you.” 

Fitz raised his eyebrows at that stunning leap in logic. 

“I didn’t really say that was an option…” Fitz murmured under his breath. The woman pouted. 

Fitz rolled his eyes, but said nothing. “OK, let’s get you out of here.” He settled his arm around her waist, her warmth pressed against his side. 

She hadn’t taken two steps when she stumbled, crashing into the grocery cart. It whizzed away down the aisle, drifting left until it careened into the canned goods section. Metal clanged as the cans hit the floor and began rolling in every direction. A lone can of cannellini beans rolled towards them and bounced off his foot. 

Fitz stood, frozen in horror. 

“Oops,” came a voice from beside him. 

Fitz could hear a stirring from the next aisle over, and he couldn’t help but think of a rumbling giant awoken from its nap and stomping towards them. _Now_ the staff show up? 

He looked around for an exit, panicked. 

The woman slumped into his side. “I’m tireddddd,” she whinged. 

“Shhhh,” said Fitz desperately. 

“Okay.” 

“Can you walk?” 

“Not right now.” Fitz made a noise of frustration. The lumbering employee was coming ever closer. 

Later, Fitz would have only one explanation for what he did next: panic. 

He tipped the woman into her nearly empty shopping cart and just started pushing. She squirmed around until she was sitting upright with her legs hanging over the side. He looked down, expecting to be confronted with an angry frown. Instead, she tilted her head back, looking at him upside down with an expression of...admiration? 

“That was clever problem-solving,” she said. 

“Um...thank you?” 

"You're welcome," she replied happily. "I like your brain." 

"Okay." 

"It thinks well. I like brains that think well." 

"Sure." 

He pushed them around the corner and made his way directly to the exit. He saw the cashier glaring at him as they passed. She reached for the phone, no doubt calling security. Fitz hesitated. He wasn't sure he was willing to get arrested over this girl. 

He stopped. The cashier's hand paused on its way to the phone. He looked at the cashier and the cashier looked back, waiting. The standoff felt like it went on for 10 years as Fitz made up his mind, but no doubt it was all over in seconds. 

Fitz slumped his shoulders in defeat and made his way over to her. The cashier kept her hand where it was for one long moment before dropping it back to her side. 

"Hi," Fitz said to her as he eased the cart into the aisle. The woman's foot hanging out of the trolley knocked over a display of gum. 

The cashier glared. Fitz smiled back with pained awkwardness. 

Fitz reached into the cart and tried to peel the tub of ice cream from the young woman's grasp so that he could hand it to the cashier. The woman glared at him, cradling it to her chest. 

"Mine," she said. 

"You are aware that we have to pay for that, right?" 

The woman thought about that for a minute, and then cautiously handed him the ice cream. He plonked it in the cashier's hand and looked around for the woman's purse. It was nowhere to be seen. 

Sighing reluctantly, wondering what mistakes he'd made in life for it to come to this, Fitz dug out his wallet and handed the cashier some money. She glared at him the whole time, clearly unimpressed. 

When the transaction was complete, Fitz carefully pushed the woman out of the grocery store and towards his car. It took some work getting her out - he ended up having to tip the cart up to roll her out ungracefully. Still, she seemed happy enough as he helped her into the passenger side and leaned across her to click her seatbelt in. 

He turned to check on her and was startled by how close she was. He froze, arrested by her gaze. 

"You have pretty blue eyes," she said. Right. Still loopy. 

"At least that's better than smelling good," he muttered to himself as he withdrew from the car and walked around to the other side. 

He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. He felt the woman's gaze on him and glanced over. She had turned in her seat, her body facing him. He couldn't quite read the expression on her face, so he turned back to the road. 

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me your address?" 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shake her head. "Then you might get away." 

"I...? Okay." 

Her hand settled on his shoulder. He jumped, startled. The hand didn't leave. Instead, it travelled up, brushing against his neck before burrowing in his hair. 

"Um...what is happening?" 

"Your hair is nice. So soft." 

"Alright," he murmured, unwilling to pull the car over and go to the trouble of putting her in the backseat. And if he was being honest, a pretty girl coming onto him was so rare as to be a negligible occurrence, so maybe he should enjoy it even if it was only because she was high on pain meds. He wouldn't let it go any further than this. 

Her other hand tried to make its way onto his thigh, but Fitz caught it before it could reach its destination. 

“That’s enough of that. You don’t want to do things you’ll regret in the morning.” 

He could almost feel her pout as she sat back in her seat, radiating disappointment. They were both silent for a moment, and Fitz let the calm of the night wash over him. He loved driving on empty streets. He’d always been a night owl. But it was rare for him to have someone beside him as he did. Even a woman delirious with pain killers was a nice change. 

He glanced over only to find her with her head resting against the window, breathing deep and even. He smiled softly to himself. 

When he arrived at his building, he managed to wake her up just enough to climb the flight of stairs to his first-floor apartment. He got them both inside and eased her gently onto his couch. 

He removed her shoes, made sure she looked comfortable, then lay a blanket over her. She was in a deep, healing sleep within moments. 

The apartment was a bit of a mess, and Fitz didn’t want that to be the first thing she saw when she woke up. It wouldn’t make a great first impression. So he pottered around a bit, tidying up his mess. She didn’t stir. 

Eventually, Fitz yawned and knew it was time for sleep. He just had no idea what would happen in the morning. 

*** 

Jemma woke slowly. She was warm, comfortable and...not in her own bed. Her mouth ached abominably and her eyelids felt gritty from lack of sleep. Jemma cracked an eye, assessing her location, and wondered how much she’d had to drink last night to make her feel so groggy. 

The vague shapes in the room coalesced into furniture. It seemed like a fairly normal apartment; not that she would know what a serial killer’s apartment would look like. From the light outside, she guessed it to be early-to-mid morning. She wriggled a bit and ascertained that her clothes were all still on, including her bra, so she hadn’t gotten lucky last night. 

A pair of blue eyes flashed in her memory and then...oh. _Oh._ Good lord, how embarrassing. 

Moments from last night crashed into her brain, replaying with horrifying clarity. She didn’t even know where to start in the list of awful things she had done. Instead, she burrowed her head under the heavy blanket and groaned loudly. 

“You’re awake then?” a Scottish burr sounded from behind her. 

“No,” she told him, her voice muffled by the blanket. 

“If it helps, I have tea?” His voice sounded closer. Jemma fisted the blanket and pulled it down just enough for her to peek over. The man from last night was standing in front of her, holding out a cup of tea. Her gaze lifted, and Jemma was pleased to see her memory had been accurate. He _was_ very attractive. Possibly even more so in his pyjama pants, white t-shirt and morning scruff. It was a good look for him. 

Jemma slowly sat up, careful of her spinning head. She curled both hands around the mug, grateful for its comforting warmth, and took a sip. The warmth soothed the ache in her mouth enough for her to talk coherently. 

“Thank you. And sorry for...literally everything.” 

The man smiled. “Honestly, that was one of the more entertaining evenings I’ve had in a long time. How are you feeling?” 

“Better for the tea,” she said gratefully. 

The man kept standing there awkwardly. Jemma glanced around to avoid his gaze and realised she was taking up the whole couch, which was the only place to sit in the room. 

She quickly pulled her knees up to her chest, making room. “Please sit.” 

He did, and his smile was shy and sweet. 

“Is that a PhD I see on the sideboard?” His diploma was half-hidden behind a dying pot plant, so she couldn’t be sure. 

“Yeah. Mechanical engineering,” he replied. 

“Oh! Did I…” She cleared her throat. “Did I tell you I’m a biochemist?” she asked, her voice squeaking a little at the end. 

He grinned. “You mentioned it.” Jemma felt her stomach flutter pleasantly at his smile. 

“Did I also mention I have _two_ PhDs?” 

He shook his head. “That explains the doctor/biochemist thing.” 

She nodded. “I’m a classic overachiever.” 

“I think it’s impressive.” His ears turned pink at his words, but his eyes were warm and sincere. 

“Oh,” said Jemma, restless with pleasure at the compliment. “And is that a Red Dwarf poster I see over there? And Blake’s 7 on the other side?” 

He sat up straighter. “Yeah, you know of them?” 

“Of course! They were staples of my TV diet when I was growing up, along with Classic Doctor Who. Both my parents _love_ British sci-fI.” 

“My mum was never a fan, but I’ve always been kind of obsessed with the older stuff. It’s so...hopeful, you know?” 

“Right?! Like, these days sci-fi is always about dystopias and misery. Even New Who is getting a bit much.” 

“Nothing compares to the classics, though. I mean, I like the new Doctor Who as much as the next Brit, but it’s the older stuff I keep going back to.” 

“All my favourite episodes are from the older series,” she agreed. 

They both smiled at each other, lost in the moment. Jemma held his gaze, trying to communicate her interest despite her bed hair, swollen mouth, and unbrushed teeth. She must look a sight. 

“When you are feeling up to it, I’ll drive you back to get your car,” he said eventually. 

“Oh, thank you,” Jemma replied, pleased by the thoughtful gesture. 

“You’re welcome. It’s only fair, since I stopped you from driving in the first place.” His eyes smiled at her over the rim of his mug. 

Jemma laughed. “I am really glad you did. I seriously can’t believe the state I was in last night.” 

“Are you hungry? The ice cream is in the freezer. Puppy and all.” 

Jemma leaned forward to smack him playfully on the arm for his teasing, and they both laughed. “I am hungry, but I don’t want to see another tub of ice cream for at least a week. I need to get over my shame, first.” 

“I’m not sure I have any other mushy foods to offer you. You may not have noticed, but I didn’t get to do my grocery shopping last night.” 

Jemma felt heat bloom in her cheeks. 

“However…” the man began, then cleared his throat. He shuffled his position on the couch. He stared at his mug, not looking at her. “There is a place two doors down that does a good English breakfast. I’m not sure what else you could eat other than the eggs, but if you wanted, I could take you there. To eat. And...yeah.” 

Jemma eyed him for a moment. “Like a date?” This adorable man was asking her out in this state? After her bizarre behaviour last night? 

He made a noise at the back of his throat. “Like a...date if you want it to be, or a friend-thing if you don’t.” 

A slow smile crept across Jemma’s face. “A date sounds lovely.” 

His shoulders sagged in relief. “Cool. Great.” 

“I’m Jemma, by the way,” she told him. 

“Fitz,” he replied. 

“Fitz,” she repeated, rolling the name around on her tongue. He caught her eye, and Jemma’s heart swelled happily. 

She sunk into the couch, letting the events of the last twelve hours wash over her. It certainly hadn’t been the outcome she’d expected when getting her wisdom teeth out the day previously, but sometimes the things that you least expect are the best things of all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pleaseletmeshowyou over on tumblr, so feel free to come find me and say hi!


End file.
